Freezing Waters
by Write0rDie
Summary: The Doctor cares for Ace after she develops the flu. Set directly after the events of 'Battlefield'. Warnings: Fluffy h/c ahead. Umbrellas not used for their original purpose. Consumption of tasty pork products.


"Can I get up now, Professor?"

"No Ace, you may not."

The Doctor sat next to Ace's bed and slowly turned the page of his book.

"But I'm feeling better. Really, I am." Ace rolled towards him and propped herself up on her elbow.

The Doctor cast a brief glance in her direction and did his best to look stern. Her expression was hopeful, but she was still very pale and had a glassy, unfocused look in her eyes. The fever was rising again.

"I highly doubt that, Ace. You need rest, fluids and-"

"But I'm _so_ bored," she said flopping back down into the pillows.

The Doctor sighed and rested the book on his knee for a moment. "Then perhaps you could use the time to ponder the error of your ways."

"But Professor, everybody knows you can't catch the flu from getting wet."

"Correct, young Ace, but your condition was both hastened and exacerbated by the freezing waters."

As if sensing the inevitable, he plucked a tissue from the box and waited. An explosive sneeze shook her. She went to wipe her nose on her sleeve but, sensing his disapproval, she stopped short. Ace snatched the tissue and blew her nose loudly.

She went quiet for a moment which was most unusual. Perhaps Ace really did feel worse than she was letting on. The Doctor raised the book and continued his reading.

"Why don't you try and sleep?" he offered.

"Can't sleep. I feel _awful_." Ace rolled away from him and covered herself fully with the duvet.

The Doctor's face softened somewhat and he made an effort to sound casual. "I thought you just said you were feeling better."

Ace's quiet, muffled reply came from beneath the covers. "I just said that so you'd let me get up."

A faint smile played at The Doctor's lips. He turned the page again.

Ace's hand shot out from under the duvet and pitched a used tissue across the room.

"Ace," he scolded. "Kindly refrain from throwing tissues. There is a receptacle directly to your right."

"Sorry Professor."

* * *

For the next hour, Ace turning restlessly. Her muscles ached fiercely and the pounding headache would not go away, no matter which way she lay on the mattress.

The Doctor coaxed her into taking some paracetamol and finally, mercifully, she drifted off to sleep, only to wake again a short time later in the grips of a nightmare.

His book was quickly discarded and The Doctor sat for a while on the edge of the bed in an effort to soothe her; muttering encouraging words and stroking her hair.

The Doctor put a hand to her temple and felt the simmering heat beneath his fingers. He placed a kiss on her head as she drifted off again in his arms.

* * *

Ace woke slowly.

She had dozed the afternoon away. Or was it the morning? It was always so hard to tell on the TARDIS, but it didn't really matter.

She stretched lazily and rolled towards The Doctor who was slumped in the chair with his hat tilted low over his eyes. Ace quietly pulled the duvet back and sat on the edge of the bed. The Doctor stayed motionless, so she rose quietly.

Suddenly something hooked around her arm like a lasso. It was the curved handle of the Doctor's umbrella.

"And where do you think you're going?" he said from under his hat.

Ace shook her arm loose. "Nowhere. I mean.. I'm _starving_ , Professor."

"Hmm, yes." The Doctor pushed the brim of his hat up. "You missed breakfast."

He stood to his feet abruptly. "Can't have you turning obstreperous, now can we?" The Doctor tapped his finger affectionately on the tip of her reddened nose.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, noisy and difficult to control." The Doctor made a move for the door but she grabbed his arm.

"I can make it myself. I'm not dying you know." Something tickled at the back of her throat and she couldn't help but cough weakly into her fist.

"You will sit," he said.

The Doctor directed her back to bed with a poke from the pointy end of his umbrella. Ace scowled but did as she was told.

"Bacon sandwich, thanks Professor." She flopped down onto the mattress. "And don't forget the sauce."

"I'll see what I can do."

"And a cup of coffee," she shouted after him just as the door closed.

Ace put her head down on the pillow, just for a moment.

* * *

She was woken by the smell of bacon right under her nose. Amazing, as it was the first thing she'd been able to smell properly in days.

"Brill! I could murder a bacon sandwich." She sat up quickly against the mountain of pillows.

The Doctor shook a white napkin out theatrically and dropped it across her lap.

"Fortunately for you, Ace, the bacon has already been murdered." He placed the breakfast tray in front of her.

"One toasted bacon sandwich," he announced. "A cup of my finest coffee and a tall glass of orange juice, for Vitamin C of course."

There was even a flower in a tiny vase; a sweet gesture that Ace completely ignored.

She grabbed the sandwich and took an enormous bite, and then leaned back into the pillows in obvious rapture. In that moment it was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

The Doctor settled back into his chair by the bed. "The pig you are so ravenously consuming came from a lovely little farm just near Perivale actually."

Ace rolled her eyes. "Alright, Professor. I don't need to hear a biography on the life of my sandwich."

He couldn't help but smile at her sassy comment. Cheeky Ace was back. She really was on the mend.

"Glad to see you have an appetite, young Ace."

"I always eat a lot when I get sick," she explained. "I got space flu once on Ice World. Stayed in my quarters for days and ate crisps 'til I just about burst. That bilge bag Anderson didn't believe I was sick at all." She licked some sauce from her finger. "He soon believed me when I passed my germs on though," she said with a wicked smile.

The Doctor remembered their first meeting on Ice World fondly. It seemed like such a long time ago. Himself, Glitz, Mel and Ace all sitting at the cafe arguing over a map and the likelihood of meeting a real live dragon.

"You were dreaming about Ice World weren't you, Ace?"

"Ha. Nightmare more like it." She wiped her face with the napkin and sat thoughtfully for a moment. "I dreamt I was back working as a waitress at that awful cafe. We ran out of Crab Nebula Pasties and I had to go into the kitchen to make more. Except I had no idea how to make them." She took a quick slurp of the coffee before turning her attention back to the second half of the sandwich.

"Ah. That would explain why you kept asking me for a recipe book." He was leaning forward now, resting his chin on the umbrella.

"I what?" She paused mid-bite.

"You asked me to find a recipe book. One featuring Crab Nebula Pasties."

"When?"

"Just before when you were asleep."

"No I didn't." She looked mighty offended but then there was a small glint of recognition as if a fragment of memory was returning.

"Ace, you were delirious," he explained. "I had to tell you it was time for your lunch break to get you to stop."

Ace stared blankly for a moment. "Actually, I think I remember some of that," she said sheepishly.

"I'm astounded you remember any of it at all."

They sat in silence for a while as Ace finished her breakfast. She tossed the napkin onto the tray and pushed it off her lap.

"So Ace. How are you really feeling? Better I hope." He studied her face for a moment. Some colour was returning to her cheeks at last.

"Maybe just a tiny bit better," she said. Ace coughed weakly into her sleeve. Her braid was coming undone from all the restless sleep and she swiped a few loose strands of hair away from her face.

The Doctor put his hand to her forehead briefly and found her temperature greatly reduced.

"Well that's a shame," he said solemnly. "I was going to run you a nice warm bath."

"Oh, would you?" she pleaded. "I'm _dying_ for a wash."

"Yes." He smiled and stood up. "And while you're in there, I think I might incinerate that t-shirt."

"You what!" Ace held the t-shirt to herself protectively. "Lay one finger on this shirt and I'll-"

"Nevermind, Ace. I'll soak it."


End file.
